


Take a Picture (it'll last longer)

by phoenixflight



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Dean Winchester, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Photography, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pre-Canon, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:29:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22054078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenixflight/pseuds/phoenixflight
Summary: Kicking off his own jeans, Sam slid under the covers with his brother, into the warm, slightly sweat-damp cocoon of blankets that overwhelmingly smelled like Dean. His dick, already thickening, hardened further.“Camera? Dean asked muzzily.“Yeah. Don't you always say you'd make a great pornstar?” Sam tugged down the blankets revealing Dean’s bare chest and threadbare, much-washed boxers that showed his mostly soft dick. The muted light through the crooked blinds highlighted the cotton covered bulge in soft chiaroscuro shapes.Click.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Comments: 14
Kudos: 143





	Take a Picture (it'll last longer)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for 12 days of wincestmas. Enjoy!

For once Sam wasn’t even mad about switching schools. Dad had pulled him out of 10th grade in Texas, where at least it was warm, and dragged them all the way to Connecticut the first week of December, in the middle of tests and final projects and turning in papers that he’d already worked on for weeks and now as going to be three thousand miles away from where they were due - and Sam didn’t care at all. Because the new school had a photography program, and that meant a darkroom. 

It was too late in the year for Sam to enroll in the class, because it was the type of popular course offering that filled up early and never had room for transfer kids. But that didn’t matter. The school locks were a joke, and Sam had learned how to use a dark room at Caleb’s where they developed case photos too gruesome or strange to take to a drugstore. 

Dad’s camera was tracking evidence, gathering clues, and taking pictures of dead things. Family photos were a thing of the past for them. Sam had a camera of his own, a cheap, reusable Kodak that Dean had gotten him a few years back as a Christmas gift. Tucked in the side pocket of his duffel, to keep them from getting creased, Sam had a stack of glossy, dog-eared photos, developed at photo kiosks all across the country - pictures of frivolous things that Dad wouldn’t waste film on. One of Bobby’s living room, cluttered and familiar, with Rufus curled on the ratty couch. One of Bobby and Dean together, bent over the hood of a rusted-out Toyota truck. A candid of Pastor Jim folding his vestments carefully after mass. A couple of Dad, caught in soft moments - cleaning his guns, or reading the paper. 

One, daringly, of Dean shirtless and freckled by a creek somewhere Sam could no longer name. Sam looked at that one most of all. He knew every inch of his brother’s body, but it was intoxicating to see him captured in inky miniature like this, so that Sam’s fingers could trace him over and over. He had other photos of Dean, all innocent enough; a chronicle of his brother’s growth from a sweet-faced teenager to the angular, devastatingly handsome young man he was now. Sam had always been partial to photojournalism. 

But he had never able to take the kinds of photos he really longed to. There was no place he could take them to get developed, and even if there were, Sam wouldn’t be willing to hand over a piece of his brother like that to a stranger. Not even a little 4x6 piece of Dean. Of course, there was no question of using Caleb’s dark room for photos like that. The paranoia of their father finding out was too strong. 

Sam slammed through the screen door of the cinderblocked trailer they were renting this month. Renting was possibly a charitable description. The two of them were sharing the double bed in the back of the trailer while their dad slept on the pullout when he was around. They were meant to be sleeping separately while he was gone; he didn’t like them sharing anymore. Sam and Dean had managed to keep straight faces while he told them that. 

It was dark and quiet in the trailer, watery spring daylight poorly penetrating the grimy windows. Sam found Dean still in bed, a hedgehog shock of hair sticking up above the nest of blankets. Dean had been working night shifts at a gas station, and slept while Sam was at school. 

Grabbing his camera out of the duffle crumpled on the floor on his side of the bed, Sam crawled onto the mattress and shook his brother's shoulder. Dean made a muffled noise of protest and lifted his head, sleep flushed and tousled, squinting in the light, mouth obscenely pouted. Sam snapped a picture.  _ Click.  _

“Wazzit?” Dean muttered. 

Kicking off his own jeans, Sam slid under the covers with his brother, into the warm, slightly sweat damp cocoon of blankets that overwhelmingly smelled like Dean. His dick, already thickening, hardened further. 

“Camera? Dean asked muzzily.

“Yeah. Don't you always say you'd make a great pornstar?” Sam tugged down the blankets revealing Dean’s bare chest and threadbare, much-washed boxers that showed his mostly soft dick. The muted light through the crooked blinds highlighted the cotton covered bulge in soft chiaroscuro shapes.  _ Click. _

Dean arched his back a little, making a contented cat-like noise. His dick was visibly growing, stretching the cotton. He’d always been a fucking show off. Sam took another picture, and then put his fingers under the elastic and pulled down Dean’s underwear. His dick was pink and familiar. Soft head beginning to plump up and darken as he hardened in earnest. 

This was one of the earliest things they had done together - just Sam watching Dean's dick grow untouched, back before Sam’s dick was as big or impressive. Sam still loved it unreasonably. Dean’s fingers in his hair, petting against the nape of his neck, the other hand resting just above his navel not touching his lengthening cock. Sam pulled back just far enough to catch all of it and took another picture.

“Show me more,” he ordered and Dean rolled his eyes but he pulled his legs apart. Sam shifted around to sit between his spread knees, grabbing the tube of KY off the nightstand with his free hand. He wished he had color film to catch Dean’s creamy skin, his delicate pink hole, and the gold shine of the hairs on his thighs and down his ass.

Sam held up the camera as he brought two slick fingers at Dean's hole and pressed inside. Through the myopic lens of the viewfinder it looked like his hand belonged to someone else. It felt dirty and voyeuristic.  _ Click _ . The lube gleamed on Dean’s skin.

“Am I some kinda prop to you today, Sammy?” Dean grunted, sounding annoyed, but his cock was still hard against his belly and he was hitching his hips up into Sam's fingers. 

“Yeah,” Sam said absently, “You're a new kind of ugly.”

Dean huffed and kicked him and the ribs and,  _ ow,  _ that hurt, but it also made Sam's fingers brushed against Dean's prostate and Dean drew a startled, shaky breath. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, short stack,” he grunted.

Sam added a third finger, admiring the stretch of Dean's pink rim. 

_ Click _ .

The head of Sam’s cock pushing into Dean’s hole, gleaming slick, Dean’s balls pulled up tight above it and Dean’s strong hand wrapped around the base of his cock.  _ Click _ .

Dean's head thrown back on the pillow, the arch of his neck and his Adam’s apple, his perfect nipples standing up pink and hard on his strong chest. Mouth red and wet from being bitten.  _ Click. _

Then Sam was fucking him in earnest, too hard to keep the camera steady and it fell into the sheets beside them as he bent over his brother, tucking his knees up under Dean’s thighs and heaving him further on to Sam's lap to change the angle so that he could pound him the way he wanted. Lots of people got pieces of Dean. His smile, his charm, his dirty jokes. Girls all over the lower 48 had sucked his dick. But Sam was the only one who ever got  _ this _ ; to see him broken apart and vulnerable. It made Sam's chest and balls tight. 

Sam's stamina was getting better but he still often came first when they did it this way around. He would challenge any sixteen-year-old not to come in record time with Dean’s ass clenching around their cock. Instead of unloading deep inside him like he often did, Sam pulled out in time to land the second, third, and fourth milky strands across Dean’s open hole and perfectly curved ass. Dean panted, stroking his own dick hard as Sam moaned through his orgasm. 

When Sam finally got his breath back, he reached for the camera and Dean said, “Oh you've got to be kidding me.” 

Sam slapped a hand against the meat of his thigh and said, “Hold still.”

Dropping his head back on the pillow, Dean groaned in frustration rather than arousal. His dick was red and leaking onto his belly, his balls drawn up tight and ready. Sam's come was dripping off of him onto the sheets in pearly gobs.  _ Click. _

“Come on,” Dean grunted. “You gonna finish what you started or what?” 

“Yeah.” Sam bent his head to lick lightly at the head of Dean’s dick. “Hey Dean? Will you take a picture?”

Several pictures later, when Dean had come down Sam’s throat and fallen back asleep, Sam got up and popped the roll of film out of the camera. He put it in a canister and slid it into the front pocket of his school backpack, patting the little bulge it made. 

It took him almost two weeks to find an excuse to get into the photolab unattended. An all-school assembly proved the perfect distraction, and Sam slipped into the darkroom. His two hour window wasn’t long enough to allow the photos to dry, so he hung them as long as he could, and then packed them between blotting paper and cut the rest of his classes for the day. 

This time when he got home he let his brother sleep, and instead warmed up three cans of Campbell's chicken noodle soup on the stove. By the time Dean dragged himself out of bed to the smell of dinner, Sam had two bowls set out on the tiny kitchenette table and between them a stack of mostly dry photos. 

Dean blinked at them, scratching his stomach sleepily where his shirt had ridden up. Then his eyes focused on the image and color flushed across his cheeks. “Are these.... when did you? Holy shit, Sam.” 

Sam grinned as his brother flipped through the rest of the photos, watching him shift from foot to foot as his dick chubbed up visibly in his sweatpants. “Jesus,” Dean muttered, the tips of his ears pink as he looked down at one of Sam with his mouth wrapped around Dean’s dick, looking up through his bangs. Sam knew how Dean was feeling. Seeing it all down on the page in black and white was intense. He’d jerked off in the school bathroom before he'd been able to make it home. 

“Where the fuck did you get these done?” Dean asked.

“Did ‘em myself. School has a dark room.”

Dean was looking at the pictures again, fingers lingering on each one. “We can't keep these,” he said after a long moment, voice subdued. 

“I know,” Sam said. “I just want to look at them for a little while.” 

Later that night they burned the photos in an old coffee can on the kitchen table. Most of them were bent and several of had gotten come on them. Dean held them one by one, brightly curling up into smoke and ash. 

Sam slipped one out of the stack and tucked it in his back pocket. It was the first picture, of Dean just woken up, pouting at the camera, ready to be ravished. Innocent enough to keep safely. It would join the others in his chronicle of Dean, differentiated only by the amateurish printing and the giddy memory of catching something on camera and making it feel real. 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are love!


End file.
